


Through the Rainy Days

by sea_level



Category: Project Blue Book (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Car Accident (offscreen), Case Fic (at the beginning), Getting Together (at the very end), Kid Fic, M/M, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-24 09:37:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19721053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sea_level/pseuds/sea_level
Summary: Allen resolves to get closer to Joel after he separates from Mimi, takes care of a case, and helps Michael out when Michael ends up taking care of a kid of his own. And then they kiss.





	Through the Rainy Days

**Author's Note:**

> This got long. Whoops.
> 
> There are a few (imo) heavier topics. I tried to keep it pretty light, but I'm not the best at determining how anything I write will be received, so let me know if I should put up warnings or anything.
> 
>  _"Hey, I don’t want to seem ungrateful_  
>  _I don’t want to seem like I don’t need anyone’s help_  
>  _To get me through the rainy days_  
>  _To push through the haze_  
>  _So I can get on my feet_  
>  _And I can stand up and do what it takes"_  
>  -Ungrateful by Streetlight Manifesto  
> (The rest of the song has no relation to the fic lol)

Breakfast with Joel has always been a silent affair since Mimi moved out to live with Susie. Joel didn’t like the arrangement much, having to move between two homes on a schedule he had no say in, but Allen could tell he was growing used to it. He complained less, and his bright personality was peeking through again from time to time.

None of that was evident this morning, certainly. He made a point of not making eye contact with Allen. Even though Allen prepared him toast to eat—Joel’s current food jag—Joel had responded by staring down at the table and chewing moodily.

“Is the toast alright?” Allen asks. He depresses the bottom of his spoon on the dry grain still floating on the surface of the milk. It’s bland, but he wants to wait until Joel’s open to the idea of pancakes again before he starts buying perishable fruits. They’ll go bad, surely, if Joel doesn’t eat them, what with how often Allen’s out of the house either at the University or at Project Blue Book.

Joel mumbles something Allen doesn’t quite catch.

“If there’s something wrong with it, you’ll need to tell me if you want me to get any better at it,” Allen says. He keeps his tone light, almost joking. He doesn’t need Joel taking anything the wrong way.

“I said ‘It’s alright,’” Joel snaps and then he almost appears to deflate. He sets the toast down on his plate and finally looks up. “It’s good toast. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Allen says. He’s about to try to see if Joel will talk some more, maybe tell him what his most pressing issues are when the phone rings.

Joel’s eyebrows come together in a frown. He’s picked up on the fact that phone calls at odd hours mean that Allen’s going away for a few days.

Allen lifts the phone to his ear, and, the second the switch lifts, Michael’s voice comes through on the other side.

“We’ve got a case,” Michael says. “Minnesota. Two children claim they saw a UFO. Ordinarily, I’d dismiss it, but they have photographic evidence, and they said they wouldn’t reveal all of it until someone physically showed up to talk with them. That’d be you.”

“You’re not coming?” Allen asks.

Michael doesn’t say anything immediately, and the silence nearly stretches on long enough for it to become questionable, but then Michael says, “I’ve got a personal matter to take care of. It’s…important. It’s going to take a while though, so I might not be able to meet up with you at the end of it like last time.”

“Well,” Allen says. “I’ll miss you. At least this one doesn’t sound like it’s too dangerous. I should be able to handle it on my own alright.”

Michael laughs. “I’m sure you can. Hopefully, this one’ll be open and shut. I’ll see if I can meet up with you afterward. You can tell me everything I missed out on, alright?”

“Sounds like fun,” Allen says.

“Mmh,” Michael replied. “I’ll see you.”

“Bye, Captain.” Allen sighs and puts the phone handset back down on its housing.

“You’re leaving again, aren’t you?” At least Joel doesn’t sound upset anymore.

“Unfortunately,” Allen says. “I get to go hunt aliens again.”

Joel rolls his eyes, but it’s obvious that he means it good-naturedly.

“Still not a cool dad, huh?” Allen asks.

Joel laughs. “You’re alright.”

“Just alright? I’ll take it.” Allen looks at the rest of his soggy cereal and then regretfully dumps the rest of it down the garbage disposal. “It’s a bit early for me to drop you off at school. Do you want me to leave you at Mimi’s?”

“Not really,” Joel says, and there’s that trace of bitterness back in his voice.

“Anywhere else, then?” Allen asks. “Is the library open this early?”

Joel shakes his head. “No,” he says, and then, more hopefully, “though could you drop me off at a friend’s?”

“Is that alright with their parents?” Allen asks.

“His mom and dad are already at work,” Joel says. “He lives right by the school, so they just leave him at home and he walks himself.”

“Alright,” Allen says, and he takes Joel’s plate and begins washing it off. “Which friend is this?”

“Nathan,” Joel says.

“I don’t remember him. New friend?”

“I’ve known him for two years,” Joel says somewhat flatly.

Oops. Allen mentally resolves to keep a more attentive ear to Joel’s life. He feels guilty that he’s fallen this far behind. “Well,” he says, “you’ve known him that long, so he must be trustworthy, right?”

“He likes Flash Gordon,” Joel says with a shrug. “He’s gotta be.”

Allen laughs and messes up Joel’s hair before pushing him off in the direction of his room. “Alright. Go get ready.”

It’s later when they’re in the car that Allen remembers to ask Joel why he didn’t want to go to Mimi's.

Joel crosses his arms at the question and draws into himself. There’s definitely something here that they need to talk about.

“What’s going on?” Allen asks. “You can tell me.”

Joel huffs and for a moment it seems like he’s going to stay silent, but then he asks, “Why did mom leave?”

Oh.

“Joel,” Allen says, glancing briefly over to look at him before turning his eyes back on the road. “Mimi might have moved out, but you’re still with her more than half of the time.”

“Why did she leave _you_?” Joel says, more pointedly this time.

Allen sighs and adjusts his grip on the steering wheel. “She didn’t”—here Joel scoffs—“no, I’m serious. It was a mutual arrangement. We both agreed it was better this way.” Mimi and Allen had taken the time to explain this to Joel before, but it must not have stuck. “We weren’t in love with each other as much as we once were, and she found Susie, who loves her much better than I could, so we agreed that this was the best arrangement.”

Allen gets it. He understands that, on some level, Joel must blame Mimi for their “divorce” even though the separation was completely mutual. He blames Mimi because she’s in another relationship and Allen’s all alone now, romantically speaking. He’d like to make it alright by telling Joel that he’d found himself falling in love with his partner, and he could understand what Mimi was going through, but that’s not something he can tell anyone, much less Joel and certainly not Michael himself.

“Think about it this way,” Allen says. “Now you’ve got a dad and _two_ moms. The more the merrier, right?”

“Susie’s not much of a mom,” Joel replies. “I don’t think she likes me very much.”

“Why do you think that?” Allen asks.

Joel huffs. “She’s kind of weird. She’s nice sometimes, but it feels fake, and then other times it feels like she’s trying to figure me out, and I don’t like that.”

“I’m sure she likes you just fine,” Allen says somewhat disingenuously. He doesn’t know much about Susie. He never really had the chance to get to know her, even when he and Mimi were trying to figure out how to navigate their new, separate lives without engaging the law. Susie was a major part of why this was all happening and was even present at most of their meetings, and even then, Allen never really had the chance to just talk with her.

Regardless, Allen likes to think that he knows Mimi pretty well after thirteen years, and he trusts her judgment. If she says that Susie’s alright, then she must be. “It sounds like she’s just trying to figure out how to act around you,” Allen continues. “You’re a big part of Mimi’s life, and Susie’s part of Mimi’s life now too, so I bet she just wants you to like her.”

Joel looks at him suspiciously. Allen knows why. That’s not the kind of thing that he’s ever said before. He doesn’t know people. He knows stars and space and many of the vast intricacies of the universe but nothing about what makes anyone tick. It’s just that Michael had mentioned something like it once, and, for all that psychology is a relatively new science and not particularly trustworthy as a whole, he seemed to be right a good amount of the time, so Allen wasn’t against parroting the things he’s said if they made a decent amount of sense.

He’s saved from the emotionally strenuous conversation when Joel sits up suddenly and points across the dashboard to a house on the left side of the street. “There,” he says. “That’s Nathan’s house.”

Allen makes a three-point U-turn and pulls up alongside the sidewalk. Joel jumps out and then grabs his backpack from the back seat.

“Hey,” Allen says before Joel can run up Nathan’s driveway. “Have fun at school today, alright? I love you.”

Joel blinks and then smiles hesitantly. “I love you too, Dad.”

“And stay safe,” Allen adds.

“I will,” Joel says, and he closes the car door.

Allen lingers at the curb just long enough to make sure that Joel gets inside safely and then he heads back to the main road. He’ll need to stop briefly at the base to make everything is in order and to tell Mimi that she’ll need to pick Joel up, and then it’s just him and the open road for however many hours it takes to get to Minnesota.

* * *

The case proves to be fairly simple.

Allen arrives at the Peterson household about mid-afternoon. Mary Peterson meets him at the door and introduces him to her two children, Charles and Benjamin Peterson, aged 11 and 10, both adopted but not related. She’s quick to inform him that they’re good kids, really, and she’s perhaps a touch too desperate, so Allen assures her that he’s not here for anything other than the aliens.

Mary visibly relaxes at that. She’s very obviously frazzled and is probably the victim of long term stress. Her hair is unkempt to an almost ridiculous degree, and the dark rings under her eyes speak of short nights and sparse naps. She doesn’t have a husband, but only because he died during the war. They’d adopted Charles and Benjamin just before he’d been forcibly enlisted.

It’s easy for Allen to get an image of what her life must be like. Out at dawn, back late, working the entire time to keep paying off the mortgage and to keep her kids alive. The kids go to and from school by themselves, waking up and returning to an empty house with no one to watch or discipline them. Mary’s marriage prospects are dim. It’s a tiny town, and she doesn’t really have the time to meet anyone. Also, Allen can tell she still hasn’t quite gotten over her husband’s death.

This whole alien sighting could be the straw breaking the camel’s back—the thing that sends the fragile framework of her life crashing down.

Michael would be better at knowing what to say to comfort her, Allen thinks firmly, but he still does his best to reassure her that, statistically, nothing will come from this, and if something does, it probably won’t be bad anyway.

It doesn’t quite have the intended effect. Mary’s face becomes a little less worried and a little more controlled. Allen decides he’d better move on to what he’s actually got skills in.

The boys’ room is in the back of the house, adjoining which is a darkroom. Mary’s husband had been an avid photographer and their sons had followed firmly in his footsteps. All of this, Mary tells Allen before bringing him into the kitchen where Charles and Benjamin were waiting at least somewhat patiently. The second Mary and Allen walk into the room, both boys drop their pencils and a piece of newsprint with hurriedly scribbled games of tic-tac-toe written on it disappears beneath the table.

“Professor?” the smaller boy with blond hair asks, his voice deepened in what Allen thinks is an attempt to make himself seem older and more mature.

Mary sighs and uncrosses her arms only to release her hands so she can scrub at her temples. “That’s Charles. The other is Benjamin.”

“We can introduce ourselves, Mom,” Charles complains, his voice pitching up to his natural range, though Benjamin shrugs ambivalently.

“Alright, alright,” Mary says, though it looks like she’s trying and failed to hide a smile. “Do you need me to leave you guys alone?”

“If you don’t mind,” Charles says, straightening his back and tilting his head slightly in perfect imitation of the consummate professional. The ratty t-shirt and jean shorts don’t really complete the look.

“Be good, then,” Mary says, and she pats the empty doorframe with her hand, casting one last glance over her shoulder on the way out.

“So,” Charles says. “Professor.”

Allen quirks a smile. “Yes. Professor J. Allen Hynek. I believe you spoke to my partner on the phone?”

“Captain Michael Quinn,” Charles says with a short nod. He’d been the one to phone in the incident to Project Blue Book. His vocal impersonation paired with the poor quality of the call had been enough to convince Michael that he was speaking to an adult, and he’d only discovered that he’d been talking to a kid when he’d called back to let Charles know that he’d be sending someone soon and Mary, who’d known nothing of the incident at the time, had picked up instead.

“Correct,” Allen says. “I understand you have a UFO encounter to report?”

“UFO?” The term appears to throw Charles a bit, which Allen understands. It’s still not common terminology. Yet.

“Unidentified flying object,” he says. “It’s the technical term we use for anything that we see up in the sky, but we don’t know what it is, like flying saucers.”

“Oh,” Charles says and then nods determinedly. “Yes. We have a UFO encounter to report.”

Benjamin’s remained quiet this entire time. He’s sitting on his hands, shifting nervously, not making eye contact. He doesn’t look suspicious though, just scared.

“Great,” Allen says. He reaches into his coat and pulls out his notebook. He opens it to a blank page and holds his pen at the ready. “Tell me what you saw."

"It was twenty-two hundred hours, three days ago, so on the fourteenth

“You know you don’t have to act like this,” Allen says, cutting him off. “You don’t have to do anything special to gain my respect. If you’re scared”—Charles looks away guiltily—“it’s alright to show it. It’s okay to be scared. You don't have to give me some professional report. It's more authentic if you just tell it to me.”

When Charles doesn’t say anything for a while, apparently all out of whatever steam he was running on before, Benjamin picks up.

“We don’t usually sneak out at night.” He talks softly, and Allen has to strain to hear him.

“That’s alright,” Allen says. “Just tell me what happened.”

“We went up to the hills that way,” Benjamin says, tilting his head slightly in the proper direction. “We’re not allowed out past dusk, but we saw some of Dad’s photos of the moon, and we wanted to try to recreate them.” He turns to look at his brother, but Charles just shrugs.

“We had everything set up,” Benjamin continues, “but then the ground started shaking and then the stars looked like they were falling from the sky and getting closer and then they were flying everywhere. It was only for a few minutes, but it was terrifying.” He reaches down and retrieves a newspaper clipping.

“Here,” he says, and pushes it across the table towards Allen.

The headline reads, “Massive Earthquake Shakes Town”.

Benjamin gives Charles a look, and Charles produces the photograph that Allen’s already seen, the one with the lights scattered all across the night sky.

“I’ll get the rest of the photos,” Charles mumbles, and he hurries out of the room in the direction of the hallway.

“Do you think it was alien?” Allen asks Benjamin.

“I don’t know what else it could be,” Benjamin says. “It would be cool, but I kind of hope it isn’t. None of the aliens on TV are nice.”

Charles comes in and all but slams a thin manila folder onto the table in his excitement.

“Here you go,” he says. He opens up the folder, revealing a small stack on photos and, on top of it, a small flipbook tied neatly at the side.

"Look,” Charles says, bending the flipbook and letting the stiff photo paper snap back out, creating a moving image that’s too fast and at too much of a bad angle for Allen to truly catch.

“Let me,” Allen says, sticking out his hand, and Charles gives the flipbook to him.

As Allen runs through the flipbook a few times, watching a few white spots move erratically against a black background, Benjamin says, “The flipbook was Charles’ idea.”

Charles slouches in his chair shyly, but Benjamin kicks him under the table and he explains. “They had these flipbooks down at the comic book store, which is how we learned about them, and then we had all these images so I thought maybe it would work with them too. It’s not steady, but I thought it might be helpful.”

“This is very helpful,” Allen says, flipping through the book a few times. “It really is quite an inventive solution.”

Charles puffs up considerably at the praise.

“I wouldn’t want to take this off of you, but I will need to gather evidence for the case file,” Allen continues. “How would you advise I make a reproduction?”

“I can make another one,” Charles volunteers eagerly. “It’ll take a while, but I can have one ready by tomorrow.”

Benjamin, back to being quiet, smiles and nods.

“I’ll pay you for both your time and materials,” Allen says, apparently to Charles’ immediate surprise. “Thank you both for your help.”

Allen says his goodbyes both to the boys and to Mary and then makes for the local library to see what he can find out about the surrounding area. The maps they have are a bit too old, and he ends up spending much more time talking to the librarian than consulting any physical materials.

She tells him about the empty land awhile north of the town, about how the government had bought it all up a few years back and had begun building some sort of military base there. Allen thanks her and goes on his way.

The base, it turns out, is an Air Force testing facility, and when he tells them he’s with Project Blue Book and presents his identification, they wave him in without too much fuss.

One Major Wilder explains to him that they’d been testing an aerial dispersal device, a projectile filled with smaller directed charges. The shells of these charges had been given a reflective surface and lights were cast up to illuminate them so they could track their progress. They’d tried to direct the charges to go off in specific directions, but the mechanism had failed and the charges had spun around comically.

“It’s a little embarrassing,” the Major says, scratching the back of his neck. “I’d have the scientists working on it talk to you, but they’re off today. I can get ahold of them if that would help.”

“If I can see the equipment you used, I’m sure I can make the proper calculations without having to bother anyone,” Allen says.

“I’m sure I can arrange that,” the Major says. “Wait here, I’ll just need to make a few calls.”

The process is slow going, but they let Allen see the recovered charges and the lights that they’d used. After taking the measurements he needs, he sits down in the cafeteria and gets to work. It’s not an overly complex problem. He really only needs to verify that the lights can generate enough lumens and that the charges are large enough that they would have appeared as they did to Charles and Benjamin.

It really doesn’t take that long to figure it out. If his math checks out, and it usually does, then the physics says that the Major’s story is not only completely plausible but also probable as well.

He gives his thanks to the military personnel on the way out for the easy cooperation and heads back to town to pass on the news to Charles and Benjamin.

They do seem a little disappointed that they hadn’t found proof of alien life, but Allen thinks they seem more relieved than anything else. It makes sense—they’re well-behaved kids who shouldn’t have been out at night in the first place. It’s a guess, but Allen thinks they wouldn’t take to well to the scrutinizing public eye casting its gaze onto their little family.

He picks up the new prints and then pays up like he’d said he would. Fair market price and a little extra. It’s not exactly something Allen can get a receipt for, so all he can really hope is that whoever reviews his monthly expense report lets it fly without really questioning it.

Mary, for her part, mostly seems happy that it’s all over and that she can get back to her work without worrying too much about her kids.

Allen gives his goodbyes and heads back to the office to write up his report and see if Michael's back from whatever obligation had him so tied up.

The case had gone by so quickly that Allen’s not surprised when Faye tells him that Michael’s still busy with his personal matter. Still, it would have been nice to see him. Michael loves cases like this, the simple ones with simpler solutions, no hidden drama or extra layers of confusion. Allen imagines Michael might have liked to work the case, if just for the satisfaction of solving it so easily.

A week passes with no contact from Michael. Allen’s doesn't come into the office if there's nothing to work on, but he calls Faye to check, just in case Michael forgot to call him. He didn’t, apparently.

It sits a little strangely with Allen that Michael would disappear for this long without telling him why. He likes to think that they're at least friends. It’s just that “personal matter” is so vague, and Allen doesn’t know what he’s meant to think.

He turns instead back to the University work that he’s let lapse during his time with Project Blue Book. It’s easy to get swept up in it like he used to be, but he watches himself and tries not to go overboard. If he’s going to have a little more free time on his hands, he should spend it with Joel.

Michael finally does call two weeks after Allen’s gotten back from Minnesota.

“Allen,” Michael says, his voice hoarse, likely from use, “sorry for disappearing for so long.”.

“Michael,” Allen greets. “Is everything alright?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, everything’s fine.” Michael yawns. “How did the case go? As easy as we’d expected?”

“Just about,” Allen replies. “You sound tired. Did the generals have you out on a mission?”

“No, no, did I forget to tell you that it wasn't for work?"

"You said it was a personal matter, but you were out of contact for so long, so I wasn't sure," Allen says.

"Oh," Michael says. "I'm really sorry about that, I've been really busy."

"I hope you've been getting enough sleep," Allen says.

"Ehh, more or less," Michael says, yawning again. Someone shouts behind him, and Michael lowers the phone and yells, "I'll be there in a minute!" To Allen, he continues, "Hey, I'm really sorry I haven't been keeping in contact. Faye told me you've been checking in, but don't worry about me. I'm fine. I'll call you when we get a case, alright?"

"Alright," Allen says.

Before he can even think to say anything else, Michael says, "Great! I'll see you soon. Bye," and hangs up.

It leaves Allen with more questions than answers—something he's never particularly liked—but Michael's already gone, and there's not exactly anything he can do. Or, well, maybe not tonight at least, but tomorrow after office hours... He's picked up at least a few investigative skills over the past two years, and he'll be damned if he's not about to put them to good use.

* * *

“His address?” Faye asks.

“Michael lives on base, right?” Allen says. “I thought he’d have an address, but if he doesn’t, instructions on how to get to wherever he lives would work just as well.”

Faye looks down at her desk from behind the counter and then back up again. “He has an address. Why do you need it?”

“He called yesterday to let me know he’s doing alright, but he sounded exhausted,” Allen says. “I figured maybe I’d bring him something to help.” He lifts the bag he brought with him.

“I can give that to him, if you’d like,” Faye offers, still looking a little suspicious.

“I’d like to give it to him myself if you don’t mind,” Allen says. “I likely brought stuff he won’t need, and I’d like to take back whatever he doesn’t want.”

Faye sighs and then pulls out a small three-ring binder. She flips through it and then scribbles some stuff down on a pad of paper. Ripping off the top sheet, she hands it to Allen and says, “This is his address and instructions on how to get there. I don’t know how familiar you are with the layout of the base, but he shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

“Thank you,” Allen says.

He’s on his way, walking toward the housing area when a Jeep pulls up beside him, and the driver yells out the open window offering to drive him the rest of the way.

Michael doesn’t open the door when Allen rings the doorbell, but Allen can hear movement from inside the house. (Or is it more of an apartment? It's fairly small, good for one person but hardly more.)

He knocks on the door and calls out, "Michael!"

"Sh—Allen?" Michael’s voice comes through muffled.

“Michael, hey,” Allen says as Michael opens the door just enough to slip outside and close the door behind him. “You sounded tired yesterday, and I brought you some stuff that I thought might help.”

“Doc,” Michael says, sounding quite a bit like he’s trying very hard to be patient. “Why are you here?” his hair is in complete disarray, worse than Allen had ever seen it, though it looks almost as if Michael had hastily tried to push it back down. He's dressed for a day in, wearing rumpled clothes with food stains on it. The half-moons under his eyes are dark and deep. He looks like he hasn't slept in days.

Allen lifts the bag. “I don’t know what it is that’s got you so tired, but I brought a few things that I thought might help.”

Michael sighs. “I’m assuming you got my address from Faye.”

“Yes.”

“And that excuse worked on her?” he asks.

“It’s not an excuse,” Allen says. “I’m concerned about your health.”

“Sure,” Michael says, “but I’m willing to bet you’re a little more concerned about whatever it is that’s been keeping me away from work, right?”

“Ehh,” Allen says. “I mean, whatever it is, it’s been keeping you up, right? Is there any way that I can help?”

“I don’t know if you’ll want to help with this one,” Michael says. He turns a bit, casting his gaze over his shoulder off in the direction of somewhere past his door. “I think it’s a bit more responsibility than you might want to take on.”

“I can’t make that decision without knowing the problem though,” Allen says.

Michael looks at him tiredly. “Fine. You win.” He turns around opens the door wide, looking to both sides before he waves Allen in.

Michael’s home is surprisingly impersonal, Allen thinks. It’s not empty, all the furnishings are there, and personal belongings have found their places on various walls and flat surfaces, but none of the items really have any personality. What is strange is the presence of children’s toys on the living room floor. A few are similar to the type Mimi and he had bought for Joel when he was younger before he’d started to develop a taste for superheroes and space invaders.

“She was in here a second ago,” Michael mumbles and then trails off as he wanders past the kitchen into the hallway. Allen follows.

The door on the right is closed, Michael’s bedroom if Allen had to guess. The first door to the left is a bathroom that Michael pokes his head into and then closes.

“Must’ve gone back to her room,” Michael says. The second and final door to the left is closed. "This is going to be a little, ah, hard to explain." Michael's voice is hushed.

"You've got a kid?" Allen asks.

Michael looks to the door and then back to him. "Yes, um, technically."

"Technically?"

"It's a long story," Michael says. "I promise I'll explain it to you later when we have some time to ourselves, but for now all you need to know is that I'm her legal guardian."

Allen's always seen Michael as a family man, but these were absolutely not the circumstances under which he saw him pursuing that particular dream. Is the kid his biological daughter? If so, why did Michael say he was her legal guardian? Michael certainly wouldn't have just adopted a child out of the blue, especially with his duties to the Air Force taking up so much of his time.

Before he can get stuck too deep in his thoughts, Michael knocks on the door and asks, “Is it okay for me to come in? A friend’s with me.”

There's a pause and a considerable amount of shuffling before a young girl's voice comes through the door. "Fine," she says, but she doesn't sound pleased about it.

“Thank you,” Michael says. “I’m coming in.” He twists the doorknob and opens the door, pausing for a moment before stepping into the room first and then allowing Allen inside the room.

The girl's sitting on the bed, cross-legged with a blanket draped over her shoulders and another over her lap. She has a stuffed bunny in her arms, held tight to her chest. She looks pretty young still and can’t be more than eight years old.

“Allen, this is—” Michael starts to introduce, but the kid cuts him off.

“I’m Hazel,” she says. Her focus briefly shifts from Michael to Allen, but it's back to where it was before the second she's done talking.

"Hazel?” Allen says. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. I'm Allen.”

She smiles grimly, not making eye contact, and holds the bunny closer. "Is he here to make you go to work?" she asks Michael. Allen doesn't miss the flash of concern in her eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere until you're ready," Michael tells her reassuringly.

"Good," she says, relieved. "Wait, then why is he here?"

"You can ask _Allen_ that," Michael says. Allen wonders if the directive is supposed to sound stern like this is supposed to be a teachable moment, but it comes across more as hesitant and hopeful.

Hazel grimaces and Michael goes over to sit next to her on the bed, his feet still on the ground. "It's alright," he says. "It's okay if you need a bit of time."

Hazel sighs and then nods to herself determinedly. She looks Allen straight in the eyes and asks, "Why are you here?"

It could certainly be a little more polite, but, from the look of pride on Michael's face, it doesn't really seem like that's the issue they're trying to focus on right now.

"I just wanted to make sure if he's doing alright," Allen says. "He hasn't been to work in a while, so I'm just checking in."

"I guess that's alright then," she says. Her eye contact has slipped, but she doesn't look back up to Michael until she's it speaking to him. “Is it okay for me to take a nap now?” she asks.

"Sure,” Michael says. "I'll be right out in the kitchen if you need me.”

Michael stands up from the bed and presses a kiss to the top of her head. He ushers Allen out of the room and says, "Sleep well,” before closing the door behind them.

Allen follows Michael out to the kitchen and takes a seat at the dining room table. At Allen’s questioning look, Michael shakes his head and says. "I can't tell you now. She might overhear.”

Allen lifts an eyebrow.

“She's been through a lot these past few weeks,” Michael says. "I don't want to bring up any of the bad stuff when she's in range."

“Do you need any help?” Allen asks. "Taking care of a kid is a lot of work." 

Michael smiles. "I appreciate the offer, but I think we're doing all right. We’re still getting adjusted for now. I should be back to work in a week."

“At least take a look at what I brought,” Allen says. He's still holding the bag that he brought with him and places it on the table. He lets the contents settle and pushes the sides down so Michael can see what he brought.

“I thought the sleep stuff was just an excuse,” Michael says. "You actually put a lot of thought into this. " 

“I _am_ concerned for your health,” Allen says. “I know I didn't sleep a lot when Joel was born, but I think I would have done a better job if I was a little better rested.”

"Alright, " Michael says. “How about you tell me all about what you brought?”

Allen goes through each of the items in his bag of sleep remedies one by one until they figure out what will probably work best for Michael. Afterward, Allen packs up the rest of his stuff and says his goodbyes quietly before leaving.

He returns to an empty house. It feels much too large now with Mimi moved out and Joel away every other week. He doesn’t often wish for company, but, in this moment, the urge to invite someone, anyone, over is almost concerningly acute.

The only problem is, he hasn’t exactly spent the last two decades seeking out friends he could call up at any moment.

Oh well. It’s not like he doesn’t have work to do.

* * *

Allen fully intends to call Michael at the end of the week, he really does, but finals week falls on him like a sack of bricks.

Between all the time he’s spent on Project Blue Book and all the work he’s relegated to his TAs, he has to take a few days to put together an approximation of what his students have actually learned this semester before he can even start putting together the exams. He prides himself on the quality and originality of his tests, but this time, under duress, he might even admit to taking some old test questions and changing the numbers.

By the time all his students have finished their exams and he’s gotten them all graded, though, two weeks have passed since he’d last seen Michael.

It’s not necessarily a long time to go without a case. A lot of calls come in about things that don’t really warrant their attention, and, presumably, Faye’s been passing off those calls to Michael. Allen considers driving in to see if Michael’s in the office, just to say hi, but he decides to save himself the trip by calling in instead.

Faye gives the usual greeting. “Hello,” she says. “You’ve reached the office of Project Blue Book. This is Faye speaking. Do you have an incident to report?”

“Faye,” Allen says. “It’s Allen. Is Michael in today?”

“He didn’t call you?” she asks. “He’s taken another week off.”

“Again?” Allen asks.

“Again,” Faye confirms. “Last he called, he was considering being taken off active duty. He didn’t tell you this?”

“It must have slipped his mind,” Allen says. “I’d at least appreciate hearing it from him first that I’m going to be assigned a new partner.”

“Ah, well we don’t know quite yet if he’s leaving,” Faye says. “It’s quite a big step to take, especially for him, and what's on the line and all.” She sighs and then lowers her voice conspiratorially. “Look, I don’t want him to leave as much as you do. You still have his address, right? I don’t know what it is that has him so preoccupied, but you probably do. You don’t have to intervene or tell me anything, just...check in on him for me, won’t you?”

* * *

After Joel is safely at school, Allen swings by Michael’s house. He’s knocking on the front door when he hears wailing coming from inside. 

Ah, maybe he should come back later...? Probably sometime when Hazel is doing a little better. He’s about to walk away when the door opens and the crying becomes much louder.

“Allen,” Michael says. “Hey, I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Are you doing alright in there?” Allen asks.

“Oh, just peachy,” Michael says, sounding strained. Allen’s never heard it before, but Michael’s accent’s drifting away from General American to something more distinctly northern. He’s got to be extremely tired. Allen’s concern has him itching to do something to help.

“I hope you’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you,” Allen says. He looks around to see if he can spot Hazel inside the house, but she must be in her room because, for all that Allen can hear her, he can’t see her at all. Michael, of course, does nothing to get out of the way.

Michael shrugs. “It’s taking a little longer to adjust than I thought. There’s just... _stuff_ that we need to work through. You know how it is.”

“Strictly speaking,” Allen says. “I don’t. I don’t know anything about your situation except that you’ve got a kid and you hadn’t been to work in over a month. That’s more than eight percent of the year if you didn’t know.” He tries to duck around Michael to get into the house, but Michael just shifts to the left to stand solidly in front of him.

“Is this an intervention?” Michael asks. His eyelids have slid shut at some point. It kind of sounds like he’s talking in his sleep. In the background, Hazel wails on.

“It wasn’t meant to be,” Allen says, “but it can.” He fakes Michael out by darting to the other side and slipping past him. The doorframe isn’t large, and he jostles Michael quite a bit getting inside, but, since all Michael does is blink at him, he figures he’s not about to face any immediate consequences.

“You need to take a nap at least,” Allen says. “I’d like to talk to Hazel, if I can. Alone might be better.”

“Why?” Michael asks, a little defensively.

“I need to get her perspective,” Allen says. “I need it before I can figure out how to intervene.”

Michael shifts uncomfortably, but he says, “Hold on,” and stalks past him to Hazel’s room. He knocks on the door briefly, and he must hear something in the few seconds that the crying stops because he opens the door and walks inside, closing it behind him.

Not even a moment later, he comes out. Hazel’s crying has turned to particularly loud sniffling and the occasional warble as she fights to keep the worst of the reaction down.

“She’s not exactly thrilled about it,” Michael says, “but she said she’ll talk to you.”

“Thank you,” Allen says. He takes off his hat and sets it on the rack by the door. After a second’s thought, he takes off his coat and leaves his suitcase there as well. “It probably won’t be long. You can just wait on the couch if you’d like.”

Michael still looks uncomfortable, but he walks over to the couch and plops down, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. He’s still wearing the same style of clothes as last time, perhaps even a little more disordered. It’s enough to make Allen wonder what the hell’s been going on. He’s certainly not a psychology man, so he’s not exactly about to form theories about why Michael’s been trying to take care of a particularly fussy kid on his own. Still, it’s strange.

Hazel’s sitting on the bed, cross-legged again with the blanket over her lap. Her bunny—the same one as last time—is clutched tight to her chest. She’s stopped crying for the most part. It’s obvious that she’s fighting it, the way she keeps snuffling and hiccoughing every few seconds, the tremors wracking her frame.

“Hey,” Allen says from the doorway. “Is it alright if I come in?”

Hazel nods but doesn’t look at him.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” Allen asks.

Hazel shakes her head vigorously.

“Alright,” Allen says. “How about the bunny you’ve got there?”

“Present”—hic—”from mom,” she says but starts to whimper. She screws up her face and fights it, getting herself back under control.

“It’s special, then?” Allen asks.

Hazel nods. “Soul,” she says. “Mom said it’s her soul”—hic—“she’ll be with me.”

“To protect you?” Allen asks. Without Michael telling him what happened, it’s hard to piece together what she’s talking about. Possibly something traumatic, which would explain the trouble Michael’s been having. He’s not prepared for this kind of work, though, to be fair, neither is Allen for that matter.

She nods. 

“So she’ll protect you from whatever it is that got you crying?”

Hazel shrugs, takes a breath and almost calms down all the way. “I guess.”

“Why only ‘I guess’?”

“Sometimes I forget about it and scary things get me anyway.”

“Scary things like what?” Allen asks.

“Monsters. Nightmares.”

“Is that what scared you? A nightmare?”

She nods again.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She shakes her head. No, then. At least she’s calmed down considerably since he’d walked in. Time to test the waters.

“Do you like it here?” he asks.

The question seems to throw her, and she doesn’t answer right away. “I don’t...I don’t know,” she says. “I want to go back to where I was, but I can’t, and Uncle Michael’s nice.”

“ _Uncle_ Michael?” Allen asks.

“He’s not my _real_ uncle,” Hazel says, “but that’s what Mom said to call him.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Allen says. “Well, is there anything that you would change? Like if you could have anything else, what would you want? And don’t say a horse.”

“I don’t like horses,” Hazel says. “I like bunnies. Horses are scary.”

“Alright, well then don’t say a bunny.”

Hazel sets her stuffed animal down on her lap and purses her lips. “I don’t know,” she says. “I’d have to think about it.”

“Think about it really hard, then,” Allen says, “and then when I come back, tell me what you thought of.”

Hazel nods. “Okay.” She sniffles once and swipes at her nose with a tissue, balling up the paper and throwing it inexpertly towards the trash can. It bounces off the rim and falls inside. She makes a noise of excitement.

“Good job,” Allen congratulates.

“Are you leaving now?” Hazel asks, sounding bereft.

“I can’t stay too long,” Allen says, “but I thought I might stay long enough for Michael to take a nap.”

Hazel nods thoughtfully. “Is that why he’s acting so funny?” she asks. “I thought he was special and didn’t need sleep because he never sleeps and never complains about it either.”

“Maybe he thinks so,” Allen mutters. “I think he needs to sleep for a while. Would you mind spending some time with me, if he says it’s okay.”

Hazel is silent for a while, but she shakes her head hesitantly. “I wouldn’t mind,” she says. “I’m sorry I was mean to you last time you were here.”

“Hey,” Allen says, “It’s alright. Let me go talk to Michael and see what he’ll let me do.”

Michael’s on the couch, his back to the hallway when Allen walks out of Hazel’s room. It’s entirely possible that Michael’s asleep, the way he doesn’t react at all to the sounds of the door opening and closing and Allen’s shoes on the linoleum floor. When Allen walks around to check on him, though, his eyes are open if a little unfocused. Allen waves a hand, wondering if the motion will catch Michael’s attention, but he doesn’t move. Huh.

Allen considers that maybe Michael’s managed to fall asleep with his eyes open but then Michael blinks and tilts his head up slightly to look directly at Allen.

“Hazel stopped crying,” Michael says, astutely.

“She did,” Allen says, feeling a little confrontational, mostly for the sake of Michael's health. “What are you _doing_?”

“What?”

“I don’t mean taking care of Hazel,” Allen continues. “I mean how you’re running yourself into the ground to do it alone. You know you’re allowed to ask for help.”

Michael makes a frustrated noise and rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands. “I know,” Michael says.

“Then why didn’t you?”

Michael turns his head to look determinedly out the window. “Can we just—Can we talk about this later?”

Allen pushes back his impatience. “How about this? You take a nap, I’ll take care of Hazel for a bit, maybe take her out for a breath of fresh air, and, when we get back, you and I can talk and figure this whole thing out.”

Michael looks startled at the suggestion, and, for a moment, Allen thinks he might protest, but then he says, “Okay, yeah, fine, but if anything happens to her, I will kill you, our friendship be damned.”

Allen can’t take Michael on a good day, but Allen’s pretty sure Michael can’t actually do much in this state. “Of course,” he says. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“And you should know if you’re going to take her out of the house,” Michael says, pushing himself off the couch, “she’s had her left leg amputated above the knee. She’s using crutches to get around. Don’t you dare ask her about it. You and I can have that conversation later. If she needs you to carry her, you’re damn well going to carry her, and you better keep a close eye on her just in case she doesn’t ask.”

For all the questions that revelation raised, it also potentially answered a few, particularly why she might be having such bad nightmares and why she’s always covered her lap with a blanket every time he’s seen her.

“I’ll be careful,” Allen says. At Michael’s skeptical look, he adds, “You do remember I have a son, right? I have _some_ experience with kids. You don’t need to worry so much.”

Michael sighs. “I know. Okay. Let me talk to her.”

“Wait, does she have any allergies?” Allen says.

“Why do you ask?” Michael asks.

“Just checking all my bases,” Allen says. “I was thinking we might stop for ice cream if that’s something that might interest her.”

“Oh, then, no allergies,” Michael says, “She hasn’t had a reaction to anything yet, and when in doubt you can just ask her and make sure she doesn’t eat anything new.” He stretches a little. “I’m going to go ask Hazel if she’s alright with your plan. Does two hours sound like enough time?”

“Maybe three would be better?” Allen would try to go for more, purely for Michael’s sake, but he doesn’t think that Michael would take too well to it.

Even the suggestion of three hours causes Michael’s jaw to clench and his eyes to narrow, but he acquiesces regardless of any unvoiced feelings of discontent. “Alright,” Michael says. “Three hours then.”

“Thank you,” Allen says as Michael disappears into Hazel’s room.

Three hours is still a good amount of time. If Hazel’s okay with it, he can take her off the base, bring her into town, show her the local sights. He’ll drop her back off at home with plenty of time to pick Joel up from school.

“She says it’s fine,” Michael says when he reemerges and then adds, almost pleadingly, “Please, take good care of her.”

The thing about Michael is that, while his presence does command a certain amount of respect, he doesn’t really carry himself with the intent to be intimidating. He doesn’t really make any presumptions about himself. The effect of this is he comes across as something of an approachable guy—someone you could get a few beers with—if a bit aloof.

Right now, he has none of that. There’s desperation and defeat and even a little bit of anger, and it breaks Allen’s heart to see him like this. Allen wants nothing more than to put Michael to bed and make him sleep for more than just a few hours, to coddle him and take care of him and make everything better. Even if Allen can’t do it all right now immediately, he’ll still do everything he can. It’s a way for Allen to materialize how he feels for Michael without actually doing anything risky like saying, “I love you.”

“Don’t worry,” Allen says. He walks over to Michael and places a hand on his arm to guide him over to where he presumes is Michael’s bedroom. It’s apparently the right place because Michael opens the door and walks inside.

Michael stops halfway to the bed and turns around.

“Sleep well,” Allen says.

“Allen,” Michael says, swallowing. “Thank you.”

“Anytime you need help,” Allen says, “don’t hesitate to call me.”

The corner’s of Michael’s lips pull up a bit in what looks like an unintentional half-smile.

“I’ll see you soon,” Allen says and closes the door.

* * *

Allen returns to Hazel’s room. They talk a little aimlessly at first. Allen tells her a little about himself and what he does and how he knows Michael and he asks her what she’s been up to recently since she moved here.

It’s not much, mostly just playing with toys and trying to sleep, which is something she’s been having issues with, apparently. She speaks about it a little sadly, but Allen can’t quite put his finger on what exactly it is that’s bothering her.

They, Hazel and Michael, don’t exactly get out of the house much. Michael’s mostly gotten his groceries by asking some of the local airmen politely, Hazel hadn’t exactly wanted to leave the house much on account of her leg.

The conversation eventually dies down, and Allen suggests they head out, maybe get some ice cream.

Hazel seems reluctant to get off of her bed, even if she does really want ice cream. It takes a little convincing before Hazel agrees and tells him where her crutches are. Allen helps her get off the bed and get steady and together they make their way out the door and into the world.

* * *

Joel seems happy when Allen picks him up from school.

“Did you have a good day, kiddo?” Allen asks after he helps Joel dump his backpack into the trunk and clamber into the passenger seat.

“It was Daryl’s birthday today, and he brought cake and ice cream for the entire class and the teacher let us play outside a little longer,” Joel says excitedly.

“Daryl, huh?” Allen asks. He’s been paying closer attention to the people Joel talks about, and he knows for sure this time that this name is new. “I haven’t heard you mention him before.”

“That’s because I wasn’t his friend before,” Joel explains, “but he brought a comic book to school for show-and-tell. His favorite character is the Atom, and he’s heard of Flash Gordon before, but he’s never read any of the comics, so I told him all about Flash Gordon and he told me all about the Atom and it was really fun.”

“Hey, that’s great,” Allen says. “Does that mean you’re going to start buying all the Atom comics too?”

“Maybe not yet,” Joel says. “Daryl has most of them, and he says he can lend them to me if I’m super careful.”

“You could stand to be a little more careful with your comics, too,” Allen says. “I found another one of them in my suitcase. Now, _how_ did it get in there?”

“Maybe it’s because you keep working on the kitchen table,” Joel replies.

The more Allen thinks about it, the more he decides Joel’s probably right. With the house empty half the time, Allen’s started to migrate out of his office and into the dining room because the table’s bigger, and the space is a little less claustrophobic. It’s probably fairly bothersome for Joel to deal with every time he comes home.

Maybe he can convert one of the spare rooms into a larger study...? Of course, that would mean inviting people into the house to do the work for him and that’s just inviting trouble. He doesn’t need anyone coming in and scrutinizing his life, wondering where his wife is, why his son is only at home every other week.

When Allen gets back home, he gathers the big stack of papers of the kitchen table and dumps them back in his office.

He’ll have to remember to move all his little inventions back too, but he'll get to that later.

* * *

Allen drops by the next day and entertains Hazel while Michael catches up on a bit more sleep. He stays about five hours, enough for Michael to get the full eight hours, complementing the three hours of sleep he managed to get the night before.

Allen doesn’t work at the university during the summer. He used to teach classes then, back when he was just starting out and he needed the money to support his family, but once he got a little more standing, he’d usually just go in to work on his various projects. He’d keep shorter hours, maybe take off a week or two to go on vacation.

Last year, he’d taken off several times for Blue Book cases. He’d managed one vacation, though it was abruptly cut short due to bad weather and then another case, and both he and Mimi were just about ready to take any excuse to get out of Maine.

Allen wasn’t really ready to dedicate this entire summer to watching Hazel in order to make sure Michael got enough sleep, but before he could even blink, two weeks had passed, and Joel was out of school and back at Allen’s house.

The Sunday night before Joel’s due back from Mimi’s, Allen finds himself cooking stew in Michael’s kitchen.

“I don’t know if I can drop by tomorrow,” Allen says, sticking the wooden spoon back into the pot and swishing the contents around. “Joel’s out of school for the summer, and it’s my week.”

“I’m sure we can do alright on our own,” Michael says, setting the bowls and utensils out on the table.

Allen’s not entirely sure of that. Hazel still has nightmares most nights, and Michael’s started going to work when Allen’s around, which means he isn’t getting any extra sleep. On top of all that, Michael hasn’t actually told him anything about how Hazel ended up under his care because, for all that Allen is physically standing in Michael’s house, they don’t actually see each other all that much.

Allen sets the spoon down and looks over to where Michael’s standing next to the dining table. He can’t really tell if Michael’s disappointed that he won’t be coming tomorrow. He’s never been particularly good at picking out Michael’s deeper emotions, and Michael’s entirely too good at hiding them.

Allen turns off the stove and moves the pot to the middle of the table. He fills up the ladle and pours its contents into Hazel’s bowl and then his before offering it Michael who does his own.

They eat in silence until the silence becomes awkward, and Allen can’t help but feel like his announcement put a damper on their meal. He needs to fix this.

“Tell you what,” he says. “Why don’t you come over to my house tomorrow? Hazel can meet Joel. It’ll be a nice change of scenery.”

Both Hazel and Michael look apprehensive, but Hazel, after a moment to think it over, says, “Can we go? Please?”

“If you want to,” Michael says, setting his spoon down in his bowl. “I don’t want to impose.”

“It’s hardly an imposition,” Allen says. “It’ll be nice.”

Michael smiles at him and they lapse back into silence, though this time it’s a little more comfortable. breaks the silence by talking about the adventures of her stuffed bunny, inexplicably named Molly Bell.

Michael, for his part, seems proud of her active imagination, so Allen cheers her on the best he can. When they’re finished, Allen replaces their bowls with plates and then places a cookie on each. According to Michael, it was a tradition in Hazel’s old household and something she viewed more as a fact of life than connection to whatever it is Michael hasn’t told him about it. Therefore, the nightly cookie dessert persisted, and Allen certainly wasn’t about to complain.

“Did you think about what I asked you last time?” Allen asks, dipping his cookie into his milk. “About what you would change if you could change anything?”

“I wanna go to school,” Hazel says, “and I wanna be around other kids, but they have to be nice kids. And I know you said no bunny, so maybe would I wanna get a dog instead.”

Michael looks up abruptly from where he’d been focusing very hard on making sure his cookie break apart and fall into his milk.

“It would be nice to be around other kids, wouldn’t it?” Allen says. “You’ll get to meet Joel tomorrow. That’s a good place to start.”

* * *

Allen’s on his way out when Michael follows him outside and closes the front door behind them.

“I didn’t kn— I had no idea,” Michael says. “She’s always been so shy, I wasn’t sure if she wanted to be around other people. It always felt like too much of a risk.”

“I think it’s hard for a first-time parent to know what to do in a situation like this,” Allen says.

“It’s just—” Michael sighs and runs a hand through his hair, looking past Allen’s shoulder to look at the houses on the other side of the street. “I’ve read the literature. I’ve listened to everything Hazel’s told me. How am I doing this bad?”

“I don’t know if I’m necessarily in a position to judge you,” Allen says. “I haven’t always been the best parent, but the difference between me and you is that I had Mimi.” Michael’s face does something weird at the mention of Allen’s ex-wife, but Allen continues. “She picked up a lot of the slack when I was too busy with work, and she was always the one to listen to Joel and engage with him in the ways that I failed to. Maybe some people can take care of children on their own, but there’s no shame in not being one of those people. There is, however, shame in continually insisting you are when you aren’t.”

Michael sighs and looks down. “I knew you were upset with me over this, I just didn’t know how much.”

“Hey,” Allen says, and then takes a risk, reaching out to put his hand on Michael’s arm causing the other man to look up. “I’m not upset with you.”

Michael squints a bit.

“Maybe just a little,” Allen amends, “but I’m more concerned than anything else. There are people you can talk to, services you can take advantage of, and you always have me.”

“Yeah,” Michael says, “yeah, these past two weeks have...yeah. I know that now.” He smiles demurely. “Thank you,” he adds and, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you.” Allen waves and turns around to begin the walk back to his car under the fading light of the summer sun.

* * *

Driving Joel from Mimi’s house back to his own, Allen had thoroughly briefed him on Hazel and her situation and why she and Michael were going to be over for the day.

Joel had taken it all in stride and then asked, “Does she like superheroes?” because, really, that’s the most important personality trait of them all, isn’t it?’

“You know what?” Allen says. “Why don’t you ask her.”

Michael and Hazel arrive at a respectable 10 AM, later than Allen had expected from Michael, but there’s also the implication that maybe Hazel was able to sleep a little later into the morning, which is never a bad thing.

Joel, as it turns out, gets on with Hazel like a house on fire. Hazel did not, in fact, know what superheroes were, but she’s interested in learning, and Joel’s interested in telling. Allen’s worried for a bit that Joel will dominate the conversation, but then Hazel starts piping up with stories about Molly Bell the bunny, so it all balances out.

“We need to talk,” Michael says, standing behind Allen and saying the words quietly in his ear. Allen has to fight the urge to shiver. “I think I owe you some information, and it seems like those two are doing a good job keeping each other entertained for the time being.”

Allen turns so they’re not standing quite so close. “My office?” he asks, and Michael smiles in the affirmative.

Allen’s office only has one chair, so he grabs a fold-out from the hallway closet and sets it out for Michael to sit on when they get to the office. Michael doesn’t close the door behind him, leaving it open just a crack so they can keep an ear open just in case something happens.

“When I was young,” Michael says without preamble, “my best friend’s name was Helen Peterson. We were inseparable.” He smiles, obviously dwelling on some fond memory. “Both her parents and my mom were busy all the time, so we’d spend a lot of our time together. We went to the same school. She made me promise that, if anything happened to her, I’d take care of her family. By the time we were in high school, she made me promise to adopt her kid, if she had one, if she died. I didn’t see any harm in the promise at the time because there were all these ‘ifs’ and the thought she might one day die just seemed absolutely ridiculous to me—she was always such a vibrant person—but it happened anyway.”

Michael takes in a deep, unsteady breath, leans back in his chair, closes his eyes, and continues. “We mostly fell out of contact during the war, especially because I was overseas for so much of it. When I came back, she was a single mother of one, and I had so many duties that we were never able to meet up, and so we did what we could when we could. It wasn’t enough, but, you know, it was something. Something to keep the friendship alive. Something to keep me in Hazel’s life. Then the car accident happened.” Michael’s eyes open almost looking wet, though it could be a trick of the light. He runs a hand over his face.

“She was driving home late at night after picking up Hazel from a friend’s house. Hazel was in the back seat. They were hit by a semi-truck running a red light. Helen died on impact. Hazel was caught under the debris. She had to get her lower leg properly amputated at the hospital, and after she woke up from surgery and was told what had happened, she told them to contact me, had my phone number memorized and everything. I got the call right before I was about to call you about that case in Minnesota.”

Michael falls silent, his eyes burning holes into the whorls on Allen’s wooden desk.

“And then you took time off to try to make it work,” Allen supplies. “You had a promise to keep.”

“Yeah,” Michael says. “It was always just the two of us, and then it was just me, and I’d always been so good at doing things on my own. You know how individualistic it is in the military.”

“I _don’t_ know,” Allen says, “but, if you’re anything to go by, I imagine it’s quite bad.”

It surprises a laugh out of Michael. “Something like that,” he says. “Some days I worry I might be worse.”

“Do you want to talk about that?” Allen asks, partially because he’s curious but also because he cares.

“Hey, I thought I was supposed to be the psychologist here,” Michael jokes, but he swallows and continues somberly, “There’s a more than fair chance I might base most of my pride on my ability to be self-sufficient.”

Allen tries to think of a good response, but, like Michael had said, this isn’t exactly his wheelhouse. These weren’t things he’s really thought about before.

“So,” Michael continues when Allen’s quiet for a little too long, “asking for help, accepting help, in a way, it’s an admission of failure and weakness, and no one wants to have that hanging over them.”

“Oh,” Allen says, “but you know better now, right?”

“It’s still hard,” Michael replies.

Allen understands on some level, but he’s never let his personal pride get in the way of scientific progress. Or, at least, as far as he’s aware.

“I can help you ask for help if that makes things a little easier,” Allen says.

The corners of Michael’s lips tug upwards, almost threatening to become a smile. “Maybe.”

* * *

Since Hazel and Joel seemed to get on well enough, and because Allen’s house is quite a bit bigger than Michael’s, it ends up becoming something of a _thing_.

After dinner on Monday, Hazel gets Michael to promise that they’ll come back on Tuesday, which Allen in no way objects to, and then again on Wednesday. Except, Michael has some Air Force responsibilities on Wednesday and Thursday, so she ends up staying the night, and then, since she’s already been there all week, Michael brings her back on Friday because why not?

“I like Allen’s house better,” Hazel intones during the following week after Joel’s back at Mimi’s. They’re at a playground in Allen’s neighborhood. Allen pushes Hazel up and down on the see-saw while Michael hovers nearby, holding her elbow crutches. She’s moved on from the underarm crutches since building up some upper body strength from all the activity she's been doing since Allen started coming around.

“Why’s that?” Allen asks.

“It’s bigger, and Joel is there sometimes, and the bathrooms are nicer, and when we’re there we don’t have to travel super far to get to other places,” Hazel explains. “And also you’re always there, and I like you. Maybe not as much as Uncle Michael because he’s my uncle, but you listen to me more.”

Allen looks up just in time to see Michael flush and turn away, but Hazel doesn’t notice it, too focused on the spring under the see-saw.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll try better now,” Allen says and gives the see-saw another push and up Hazel goes.

Later, Allen tells Michael that it's probably not the listening he's doing, but the questions he's asking and Michael takes note.

* * *

When Allen picks Joel up from Mimi’s, he seems to be in good spirits.

“How is Susie doing?” Allen asks.

“She’s good,” Joel says.

Allen smiles. “She’s not as bad of a person as you thought, huh?”

“It turns out she’s cool, actually,” Joel says. “She made me promise not to tell anyone about it, so I can’t tell you why, but she’s really cool.”

“Yeah?” Allen says. “Cooler than me?”

“ _Definitely_ cooler than you,” Joel confirms.

“I guess I don’t mind being upstaged if it means you don’t mind being at Mimi’s house,” Allen muses. “By the way, Hazel and Michael are coming over today.”

“Okay,” Joel says because this is nothing new but then adds, “So, like, is Hazel moving in? She already has clothes and toys in the guest bedroom, and I think she’s here more often than at wherever she lives.”

“You know what? I don’t actually know,” Allen says. “Why don’t I figure that out today, and I’ll get back to you.

* * *

When Michael and Hazel arrive, Allen tries to arrange an astronomy-related craft activity for them all to participate in, but Hazel doesn’t seem particularly interested. After a few failed attempts, Michael saves him with a funny story from when he was stationed in Spain. When he’s done, they use the television as a distraction and slip off to the office to talk.

“How would you feel about moving in?” Allen asks and then just to cover his bases and to make sure that Michael doesn’t catch on that he has _feelings_ for him, he adds, “I mean, it’s only logical. You practically live here already, and since we’ve organized for Hazel to go to school with Joel in the fall, it would cut down on the amount of effort it would take to get her there, and we haven’t even figured out who’s going to watch her when we have a case, and I haven’t asked her yet, but I was thinking Mimi could—”

“I’d have to think about it,” Michael says, cutting Allen off, which, all things considered, was probably for the best. “I’d have to talk to Hazel and figure out what’s best for her, and obviously I’d have to work it out with the Air Force, and it’s a little much”—Allen’s heart skips a beat at the same time Michael takes a deep breath—“but I trust you.”

“Well, if it works out for you, we have rooms for both of you,” Allen says. “Just make whatever choice you feel is most beneficial, and even if you decide not to, just know that I’ll always be here for you.”

Michael’s smile is shy, and when he says, “Thank you,” his voice has that same soft quality that it takes on when he’s talking to Hazel.

Allen tries not to think about that.

* * *

Allen talks to Mimi about the whole situation. He explains that he’s been helping Michael take care of Hazel and who Hazel is and how he’s offered to let them move in, and he asks Mimi if it might be possible for her to watch Hazel in the event that they get a case, and obviously he’d have to introduce the two of them before that, but the whole thing is still tentative, but all that aside, how’s life been? Is Susie doing well?

Mimi laughs and invites him in, handing him a glass of water. “Calm down,” she says. There’s an odd quality behind her eyes that he really should have been able to pick out after thirteen years of marriage. It’s kind of like pity and also a little like sadness, but it also really isn’t either. Why is he so bad at this?

Susie’s in the hallway with Joel, helping him pack up for the week at Allen’s, and when she sees Allen she walks over and assures him that they’d love to help.

* * *

When Michael agrees to move in, Allen tries very hard not to show how happy he is. He’s gotten a lot of practice over the past few months, so he’s pretty sure he doesn’t let anything slip.

* * *

“Allen,” Michael says, carrying in the second of the two boxes filled with the things that Hazel owns, “Allen, please, I have to know.”

“Know what?” Allen asks.

Michael opens his mouth as if to say something but nothing comes out, and Allen figures he either forgot how to speak or he can't make himself say whatever he was going to say. Allen is considerably more scared of this second option.

Allen takes the box from him and walks over to Hazel's room, Michael tailing behind him.

"Are you alright?" Allen asks. "Do you need something? Water? A place to sit?"

Michael shakes his head. "No, I... It's just hard to talk about something when you've spent so much of your life trying _very_ hard not to."

"How about this," Allen says, resting his hand on Michael's shoulder in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. "Let's get Hazel set up in here, and then we can sit down in my office and we can talk. It sounds like this conversation will take longer than we'll have before those two come in here."

"Yeah," Michael says, taking a deep breath. "Okay, good idea."

It doesn't take long for two kids and two adults in a cramped room to put everything in its proper place, and Michael and Allen take the opportunity to leave when Hazel starts talking about painting the walls a different color, and Joel starts talking about making it superhero themed. Hazel isn’t really all over the idea, but that doesn’t mean she’s against all aspects of it, and Joel isn’t about to be deterred, and, frankly, Allen needs to get out of there before Joel starts getting ideas about redecorating his room too.

“Alright,” Allen says, closing the office door behind him, “what was it that you wanted to ask me?”

Michael’s sitting in his chair—a proper one that Allen had long since replaced the fold-out with once he realized they were both going to be in there often enough.

“It’s a little difficult,” Michael says, “and maybe I’ve been reading it all wrong, and I really don’t want to ruin the friendship I have with you, so ignore this all if you want, but, Allen, I like you a lot. More than as friends. More than I should.”

Allen’s brain is definitely lagging behind, trying to process what Michael’s just said, because there’s _no_ way he means what Allen wants him to mean, and yet...

“You mean like—” Allen says before he can even think of the right words because he doesn’t want the silence to go on too long and for Michael to get the wrong idea, so he touches his lips and hopes that Michael will understand what he’s trying to say.

Some way, somehow, Michael does, because he nods and places the fingers of his right hand over his heart and says, “Yeah, like this.”

Allen’s heart races faster than he’s ever possibly felt it race before, and his head has definitely given up on any form of coherent thought, and maybe his vision is swimming a little because this isn’t anything he’d ever expected he’d have a chance at. He doesn’t know how, but he manages to choke out an, “I feel the same way,” and a, “Can I kiss you,” the latter of which Michael replies to in the affirmative.

Kissing Michael is, somehow, greater than Allen had ever imagined, possibly because Allen hadn’t allowed himself to imagine too hard. Even though their first kiss is a little more like a hug and two identical closed-mouth smiles smashed against each other, it still feels as revolutionary as discovering a new planet or solving an equation that’s been plaguing him for months.

It’s cut short, though, and they spring apart (and, really, thank god that it looked more like a hug than a kiss) when Joel bursts into the office with the grand idea of painting a larger-than-life Flash Gordon onto his wall and the schematics for a cardboard base they can build in the living room. Hazel comes in a second later with the rest of the plans for the base, including a perch for Molly Bell.

Allen laughs, a little high on relief, and tells them that he and Michael will have to figure out if they can make it work, and, from the way that Michael smiles, bright and open, above the kids’ heads lets Allen know that, whatever happens, everything will be perfectly alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Regarding the part about Michael's "Northern" accent, we learned in episode 7 that he's from Battle Creek, Michigan. (Same Battle Creek as the short-lived show of that name that died before its time. RIP.)
> 
> If anyone's looking for an update on the vampire fic, I'm very sorry. Work's taking up way more time than I expected, and then I accidentally organized this Ficathon, and I've just been doing a massive amount of stuff, including getting temporarily shipped across the country, so it's been a little woah. I honestly don't see it getting done before I'm back in school by late August, but I really hope I manage it before then.


End file.
